Hard Times to Come
by JoeBoBean
Summary: Raylan has had a really hard day at work and what he wants to do is drink and fall asleep. What he didn't expect was to wake up in Deadwood and be mistaken as Seth Bullock. What will the residents of Deadwood do to this doppelgänger when they realise that this man that walked in to The Gem looks like a cowboy?
1. Chapter 1

_AN: I have had this written for a long time, which is obvious for any Justified watchers this was written in the midst of season 2 and Raylan's "I'll leave the Marshal service front lines" speech to Winona. I've written a good chunk of it and then got lazy like I normally do. So I thought I would give myself a kick in the ass and try to get it finished._

_The story is set up because I love the two law men that Timothy Olyphant plays and they are both involved in this, so its like Marty meeting his dad in a way for Raylan its a mirror as to how he would have been if her were the law man in Deadwood. I like their differences and similarities so that plays a big part as well. Also since it is a dream, people who Raylan knows turn up in it in what I would think would be their past selves were they in Deadwood._

_In true Deadwood style Al swears like you have no idea what; which is fun to write, but if you don't like excessive swearing I would advise you not read this._

_Enjoy xxx_

* * *

It wasn't often that Raylan would admit that he was glad to be back in his tiny motel room, but this instance was one of them. It had been a long hard day at the office; Tim was for some unknown reason AWOL, Rachel was blaming Raylan for it and Art just wanted Raylan dead. All in all it was a standard day at the Lexington office. The reason Art wanted Raylan dead this time had something to do with the fact that Raylan wanted to go back to Glynco and the fact that Art was going to let him go over his dead body, but it also had to do with the fact that Raylan had once again had another go around with Boyd Crowder criminal mastermind extraordinaire.

He had maintained that it was not his fault this time and that the fault was all Boyd's. Which led to their latest foray into the world of fist fighting in the dirt of Harlan County, but Art would hear nothing of it and had spent a considerable amount of time before his shift ended lecturing him on the fact. The only thing that Raylan wanted to do when he got through the door of what was still his home too many months after his arrival in Kentucky was to fall on to his bed and sink into the oblivion of sleep.

He opened the door of his motel room and sighed, this is not where he had seen himself being after so long in Kentucky, but on the same note he had to admit that he had never seen himself being in Kentucky for so long. Rachel had nailed it though these were his people for better or worse and they needed him. He placed his bag of groceries on the little table next to his bed, grabbed his new bottle of Jim Beam, unscrewed the cap and drank it straight down feeling the satisfying burn settle in his stomach.

"God damn it Boyd stop being an ass." Raylan muttered to himself as he sat on his bed. "You got Ava shot, you got Helen shot and you even got Johnny shot." He said on a bitter sob, "How many people have to be shot or killed before you are satisfied?" He asked his wall grateful that Winona had decided to stay at her and Gary's house for once. He smiled smugly, he was glad that Gary had vanished and left the house to Winona because as much as he loved her; he had got used to the separation so having her around all the time especially when he'd had a bad day grated on his nerves.

He lay back on his pillow, his hold on the bottle a little more loose than before as his eyes shut out his room that contained all his mortal worries.

* * *

He awoke and rubbed his jaw feeling the distinct length of two days stubble on his chin. He also felt like he had the mother of all hangovers; which couldn't be right as he hadn't drank that much the night before. That was unless Boyd was right and he was turning in to a pussy where liquor was concerned. He sat up and instantly knew something was wrong the bed was hard and dusty. Not to say that the bed he usually slept on was soft, but it was a hell of a lot softer than this and then there was the dust and the hot sunlight.

There was he would willingly admit something desperately wrong with this picture. Raylan opened his eyes and groaned at the sight before him. There was one thing he was sure of. Where ever he was this was not Kentucky! The line _we aren't in Kansas any more_ played strong and loud in his head, like some sort of school band.

"I've seen this movie." He said to himself as he stood brushing the dust off his jeans. "It doesn't end well for anyone involved." He finished turning around to look over the crest of the hill he found himself on. "This is a dream it must be." He muttered pinching his arm and wincing at the pain radiating from the area of muscle he grabbed. "Or not," he spied his hat on the floor and picked it off the light brown dirt and dusted it before putting it squarely on his head and instantly feeling more at home. "Well there's no better time than the present to visit the natives." Raylan muttered as he made his way down the hill through the hotchpotch graveyard to the bustling thoroughfare at the foot of the scraggy hills.

_Welcome to Deadwood_ a sign at the side of the dirt track proclaimed in jaunty paint that had only began to peel from weathering _Prospecting since 1876_ the rest of the sign said and Raylan barked a laugh.

"You have got to be kidding me." He found himself saying as a horse hurtled past him and down the main street. He looked down at his feet and understood what the sucking sensation had been. The mud was thick, wet and cloying sucking his boots in to the brown uncompromising mess beneath his feet which was in total comparison to the cracked, hard and dry ground he had woken up on. "I could use a drink." He said softly and spied a sign that spoke to him on all levels of consciousness, but he didn't know why. _The Gem Saloon_ the sheet said hanging limply over an overhanging balcony, "Deceptive name." Raylan muttered walking up the steps and in to the saloon as the sun hit its zenith.

* * *

Al knew the sound of those footsteps without even having to turn around there was only one man in camp that walked that way: soft, graceful purpose and deadly accuracy all in the genteel sounding footfalls that clicked against the wooden floor of his saloon.

"Whiskey?" he asked without turning around.

"Yes." Was the soft and pointed reply in the cadence Al knew so well, it was early in the day for Seth Bullock to be darkening the doorway of _The Gem, _but if the stuck up cocksucker was willing to be a little more human and not such a fucking prick then Al was happy. He turned and placed the shot glass on the bar and it was instantly picked up and tossed back by the man that was stood at the bar... who Al now realised was not Seth Bullock.

"Who the fuck are you?" Al asked his dark eyes instantly darker as he took in the man before him, who was Seth Bullock, but at the same time not. He had the same brown eyes that were shrewd, but brimming with compassion. He had the same height although the frame was slightly wider due to what Al could only say was more muscle, due probably to better nutrition. He had the same face, but there was no beard or scars and the hair at his temples was greying. He looked like he could be the cock suckers kin, but even Al knew that Bullock had no such thing, not anymore. "You aren't the cock sucker Bullock." Al spat taking the glass back after the interloper had set it back on the bar. The interlopers mouth quirked up at the corner in a way that was so familiar that it scared Al.

"I never claimed that I was." The interloper replied with what Al now noticed to be a deep southern drawl.

Raylan patted himself down and thankfully found that he was armed and that he had his marshal star on his belt. It may have been a dream but these items would come in handy (he hoped) if they were needed.

"Well aren't you a pretty motherfucker with a sharp mouth." Al stated crossing his arms, "As to not put to finer a point on it. Who the fuck are you?" Al asked again while nodding at Johnny to go get the sheriff. Johnny for the first time in his life did not question the action and went to get Bullock without as much as a passing glance at Dan or Trixie. _Finally the boy catches on_ Al thought with a tight smirk.

"Well it's always polite to introduce yourself first, before demanding someone's name." The interloper replied with the finesse of a Southern gentleman.

"Fuck politeness." Al said, "What about this camp gave you the impression that we put any fucking stock in being po-fucking-lite?" Al asked and the interloper's eyes took on a bemused edge that Al had only seen once on Bullock's face and he didn't like it then; he sure as hell didn't like it now on the interloper.

"Well it sure doesn't come from your manners I must say." The interloper said leaning on the bar ever so softly.

"Seth!" A voice rang out from the door and the interloper watched as Al shook his head at the man that had obviously just walked in, "I have no idea what you are doing here so early in the day or to what in heaven's name you are wearing, but we have to open the store."

"I do believe." Al said with an air of faux grace that can only be pulled off by limey cock suckers; even if they come from the slums of Manchester, "This is not the man you are referring to." The interloper turned from the bar to look at the man that just come in and watched as he doubled back as if sucker punched in the stomach. The man who had been speaking had an air of authority about him and held himself well even if it did appear that he continually looked down his nose at people, he seemed likeable enough. "I do believe you have stunned the fucking Jew prick into silence. Which I have to say is a miraculous fucking thing indeed." The man from the doorway came forward and put out his hand to the interloper, _stupid fuck_ Al thought, doing that was a sure fire way to get killed.

"Welcome to Deadwood, I'm Sol Star I run the hardware store with a man who is the double of you." The interloper put out his hand too and took the Jew's shaking it firmly,

"Thank you." The interloper replied, "I'm Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens; I'm happy to make your acquaintance Mister Star." Raylan said with a genuine smile so like Seth's when he chose to show it to people.

"I can only gather what Mister Swearengen must have said to you, he's a rough and ready sort, but he gets the job done."

"That's fucking enough from you." Al said as he came around the front of the bar his arms still crossed over his stomach. "Since the fucking Jew has shown me up I suppose I should play up to the cock sucking niceties that we were all brought up on." Al grumbled putting out a wary hand to Raylan. "I'm Alfred Swearengen and I am the proprietor and purveyor of all you see here." He said motioning around with his free hand, "All the best liquor and pussy a man could ever want." He finished his grandiose introduction with a veiled raise of his eyes as if evaluating the man in front of him. Raylan glanced down at himself and not only did he feel out of place, but also out of time. Where Sol and Al wore slacks and suspenders, Raylan had tight and fitted jeans with a thick leather belt. His hat was similar but undeniably more modern and the less said about their shirts the better Raylan thought. "Well at least I had one thing right." Al mused as he leant back against the bar next to a large man with long hair and angry eyes. "I had clocked you were a fucking cock sucking law man and I was fair and right on that."

"Does that somehow offend?" Raylan asked in the hushed tones that Bullock used when he was being reasonable for once. It put Al's back up at the same time as making Sol smile; it would be nice to have Seth act like that a little more often.

"It only offends the fucking ulcer in my stomach that appears when I have cunts like you sniffing around in my business." Raylan raised his hands in surrender and took his hat off his head laying it on the bar.

"I'm not here on marshal business." Raylan replied and that he had to admit to himself was the truth. He wasn't there in a marshal capacity, but even if this was a dream it was real enough to make him answer with the truth. As he could imagine that being on the wrong side of Al would be the last thing he would ever be on the wrong side of.

"Step away from the bar!" A voice that was close to his own in resonance and pitch if not in accent called out to him from the door, "Take off all of your weapons and lay them on the floor next to Sol." Raylan stepped back from the bar and turned to the newcomer and froze. He was looking at himself, if he was five years younger perhaps, with a moustache and long side burns.

"Well well well it seems that Bullock the sheriff has arrived. Pussy is free for the next ten minutes so all you sat around on your lazy cock sucking asses better get them off the fucking chairs and get your pricks in to my girls!" Al shouted above the noise that had instantly erupted when the patrons had realised what was unfolding before them. That being said like the hungry gutless men that they were, the patrons didn't need telling twice when they were given an offer like that. Within seconds the saloon was empty except for Johnny, Dan, Trixie, Sol, Raylan and the newly arrived Seth Bullock who's gun was wavering in his hand as if he had seen a ghost.

"If you would be so kind," Seth began as he walked across the worn pine, "How is it that you came to be here?" he asked politely still wary of the newcomer.

"By here I suppose you mean Deadwood?" Raylan asked not to annoy the sheriff although his question clearly had because he was grinding his teeth in a way he also did when unnerved and annoyed.

"That is what I'm asking." Seth said softly, but in a way that came off as a threat as he took off his hat and laid it on the bar next to Raylan's and what do you know they were the same size. _I have seen this movie before _Raylan thought _and I am going to die!_ He decided it were better not to tell the truth this time. It seemed he was a heathen enough as it is.

"I don't rightly know how I came to be here Mister...?"

"Bullock." Al interjected.

"Bullock." Raylan said with a soft smile that was between amused and confused. "I woke up on the ridge near the cemetery not much more than twenty minutes ago, but as to how I got there; I do not remember or know." Seth paced the saloon in a way he knew annoyed Al, but he couldn't help it; something was not right about this new man and it wasn't just that looked exactly like him. Well Seth had to admit he was cleaner than him and not as battered by the years in Deadwood as he was, but to all intents and purposes he looked exactly like him.

"I've heard of this phenomenon before." Raylan found himself saying to stop Seth from pacing in the way he did when things didn't go his way. "It would seem that we have each met our doppelgänger."

"What in the fuck does that mean?" Al asked clearly unhappy at being left out of the situation.

"We have met our double." Seth said halting his pacing looking past Raylan at Al. "So are you about to do evil in camp?" Seth asked Raylan pointedly, his sharp eyes watching for the slightest hint of mal intent.

"Oh no," Raylan replied his honesty ringing true in his words. "I've not come here to do harm,"

"So what have you come here to do?" Seth asked his twitchy trigger finger loosening off his gun slowly as he put in back in his holster that was slung low across his hip. Raylan rubbed at the stubble on his jaw trying to think up a plausible response when Sol said,

"What should it matter Seth, he didn't come here to do harm to the camp and for all we know he's just passing through, but you have a whole Sheriff's office full of outlaws and I think that if the Marshal wouldn't mind that he could be of some help to you." Seth glared at Sol from under hooded lids and then looked at Raylan with the smallest quirk of his lips that was almost entirely disguised by his moustache.

"If it wouldn't be too much of an indisposition to you Mister..."

"Givens," Al interjected again his eyes alight with fury at being ignored for so long.

"Givens," Seth finished, "Would you accompany me to the sheriff's office in Utter freight to complete some of the paperwork of an unruly set of cowboys that arrived in town last night." Raylan felt his brow pucker at the prospect of paperwork; it had never been something he was good at or enjoyed, but when he looked in to the mirror image of his own eyes he knew this was a test and he had to admit that if he was in Seth Bullock's position he would do the very same thing.

He raised his hands palms outwards in surrender the way he had not more than a week before to Boyd after he had confronted him and managed to get on the madman's bad side by accidentally insulting Ava. It was his compromising raise of hands to tell everyone that he was willing to be reasonable. Seth in response wrapped his arms around himself holding his large hands to his elbows as if trying to keep himself together; like at any point he might fall apart.

"I would be happy to." Raylan replied in his soft southern drawl making Trixie swoon slightly on the spot. Sol noticed this and gave her a meaningful look. Trixie gave Raylan the once over and shrugged her shoulders flipping Sol off as if to say _there is no harm in looking; you fucking Jew _before she walked out of _The Gem_ to go to the bank for its opening.

Al stepped out from behind Raylan as Seth put his hand to the newly arrived doppelgänger.

"What did you want Bullock?" Al asked an air of suspicion in his voice as he watched identical mirror images of hands reach out to each other shaking them in a firm grip that Al knew could break knuckles when Seth wanted it. By the look of the muscle twitching at Seth's jaw Al knew that the doppelgänger's handshake must be pretty similar and it made Al smirk thinking _some of your own medicine Bullock_ as he looked down at his missing finger forlornly. "What would make you darken my doorway?" Al pushed and Raylan didn't know if the saloon owner was being serious or playing with the sheriff whom seemed to the marshal to be the antagonistic friend.

"Well you did send Johnny to find me, but even if you hadn't I was looking for you, so you would know about the gang that came to raise hell in the thoroughfare." Seth replied with the curtest of nods as he picked up his hat to run his hand over the rim, "I just wanted to make sure you knew about it." He looked at Al this eyebrow arching making the scar that ran its length more prominent. Al nodded and loosened his arms taking a shot of whiskey as Seth turned to Sol, "What are you doing here? The Mayor shouldn't be seen in a place like this." From his tone Raylan knew he was playing with his friend who immediately began to shuffle his feet awkwardly.

"I came in to tell you we needed to open the shop, but I mistook Mr Givens for you Seth."

"So you weren't looking for Trixie then?" Seth asked chiding his friend gently who just looked at him as wide eyed as a deer in headlights.

"Like he needs to come here to find me!" Trixie said with her hands on her hips and her tone sharp from the board walk outside the door. Seth should have known she wouldn't actually leave. "Anyway I was only here to talk to Jewel." She finished looking pointedly at Al who just placed a toothpick in between his lips and shrugged as if the conversation now bored him.

Raylan picked up his hat and as Al watched he and Bullock unconsciously put their hats on in unison in the exact fashion, it was as if Al were looking at a mirror image of Bullock in cattle wrangler clothes. He blinked a few times to try and clear the image, but it only got worse as the pair walked out of the bar talking to each other step for step with their gaits the identical match of the other. Al wasn't the only one to notice because he saw that the Jew was shaking his head as if to clear the image he perceived.

"Well gentleman and Trixie." Al said turning, "That was an odd fucking morning indeed." He took another shot of whiskey and then cursed, "Fucking A I forgot to ask Bullock about the cock sucking hoople heads that he has locked up, I only hope to fucking Christ that he did not take this bunch up to the jail by their fucking ears."


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: For those wondering where in the Deadwood timeline this fits it comes after the series, so as I don't know the history so well I can play around. _

_I looked at the family tree for the Gutterson name and picked out a name that came from the time that Deadwood was set. As for Wallace Hunt this name comes from the fact that Walton Goggins always seems to play the man that has fallen off the path. So this name is a mix of the character he plays in Cowboys & Aliens (Hunt) and the character he plays in Shanghai Noon (Wallace) both of these characters are outlaws and both are distinct parts of Boyd's character._

* * *

Raylan had been in to many of the smaller offices of the marshal's service over the years and hell the Kentucky office he was in now was pretty damn small in comparison to Miami, but he had never thought he would see something like this. It seemed that Seth was not lying the jail was an addition to the postal and freight office at the far end of the thoroughfare. Inside the small wooden shack that was filled with boxes and mail were two small cells made of barred iron and a desk that was covered in papers for the incarceration of the men that were precariously jammed in to the cells.

That however was not what Raylan paid the most attention to as he walked in through the doorway to the cells. Sat at the desk was someone that Raylan recognised instantly and the fact that he was here was as comforting as it was scary.

"Tim?" he called out to the blonde head at the desk. He saw Seth raise his eyebrows at him which he knew was more bemused than it was questioning, but the person at the desk didn't turn he didn't even flinch. He and Seth walked in to the office step for step and when they reached the desk Seth began to speak to the new Deputy he had.

"Josiah have any of the men woken up yet?" At that the Deputy's head turned and Raylan had to bite the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't gasp at the shock, the man in the chair was Tim from the blonde hair that seemed unruly even when it was tidy to the blue eyes that you knew that even with the lazy look in them were the eyes of a sharp shooter who never missed a beat. It was Tim, his Tim from his time so this had to be a dream if he was here in _Deadwood_ with him. Tim's thin and snarky lips turned up in a smile as he spoke in the drawl that Raylan knew so well,

"Well that unruly one from last night you know Wallace Hunt, he woke up and he started mouthing off about how I was going against his human rights or some such shit and well Boss it seems that after saying it he ran head first in to the bars and knocked himself unconscious." He shrugged his shoulders the smirk still on his face.

"Next time I'd be more careful Deputy Gutterson, since we are part of Dakota now we have to be a little more..."

"Delicate?" Raylan offered and Seth turned to him smiling softly even though his dark eyes held a spark of fear.

"It's as the man says." Seth finished with a nod, "We have to handle things with kid gloves on always, so as to not shame the state." Josiah scoffed and turned back to his paperwork.

"Not to sound ungrateful boss, but he was still drunk the likelihood that he will remember what transpired here is very unlikely."

"We can't take that risk." Seth said in the placating tone that Raylan only ever used with Art or fugitives because less face it both parties were as tenacious as bull dogs.

"Fine." Josiah replied with a shrug of his shoulder.

"Josiah." Seth said in a tone that Raylan had never had to use, but he assumed that was because he had never been a father, the tone was what Raylan assumed a paternal tone to sound like. The nearest he had to that was Art and Dan and that's only because he was a pretty lawless marshal. Or he was as Art put it _a good law man but a God awful marshal_ he couldn't disagree with that. It was better to shoot first and ask questions later, shoot them before they shoot you. Raylan had always thought that was a good school of thought to live by and by the looks of Seth's operation he may be right at home.

"Mister Givens if you want to take the other chair across from Josiah I will explain what we need you to put in the files."

"Okay." Raylan replied and Josiah turned around again and that was when his shock set in.

"Boss, I don't mean to alarm you, but that man looks just like you." Raylan and Seth smiled in the same knowing way and Josiah looked like he had seen a ghost. He scrambled back on his chair, but in a way Raylan knew well. He calmed himself down again quickly to analyse the situation. "Are you somehow related?" Josiah asked, looking for the simplest explanation.

"Why yes we are;" Seth said lying to his subordinate with an ease that not even Raylan could manage and he respected the Sheriff for it. "This here is my cousin from..."

"Kentucky." Raylan said helping with a two handed shrug.

"Kentucky eh?" Josiah asked, "Where in Kentucky? I have kin there." Seth looked at Raylan with shrewd eyes that he knew he had used on others; Boyd mainly and he knew that it was a look that meant _don't you fucking dare screw me over._ Although since meeting Al, Raylan assumed that the language would most likely be more colourful than that.

"Harlan County." Raylan replied with his southern drawl barely covering his contempt of the place as he spoke.

"I assume it's out in the sticks," Josiah said as he thumped a stamp on some paper in an overzealous manner. Raylan nodded and took the chair he was offered. "My kin are in Lexington." Josiah offered and Raylan responded by removing his hat and smoothing his hair only to be spooked when Seth did the same thing; move for move in perfect time in a totally unconscious manner. Which in retrospect had Raylan more than spooked; because why would a character in his dream that looked like him act perfectly like him as if a carbon copy? Something wasn't right about this. Eventually he looked away from Seth and saw that Joshiah was watching him expectantly in a way he'd seen Tim do once when he had wanted him to tell all about what had happened with Gary.

"I know Lexington well. I'm a Marshal there."

"Look more like a cowboy to me." Josiah replied in the lazy drawl that Tim used and Raylan knew this was a test and he had only one chance to pass it.

"Long ride, I prefer denim." Josiah nodded once swiftly and returned to work.

"Where is Harry?" Seth asked as he paced in front of the cells.

"I supposed you mean Sheriff Manning?" Josiah asked only to have Seth glare at him in a way that suggested that he had killed men he liked more for much less of an insult. Josiah just shrugged as his superior ground his teeth. "The 'head' Sheriff is doing fire safety inspection at _The Gem_ he seems to think that the establishment is some sort of fire trap. You must have passed him, he only just left." Seth nodded softly clearly evaluating the information he was receiving.

"Well in all fairness it is." Raylan said as he picked up a form and read the faint typed lettering. Josiah scoffed and Seth turned to his mirror image and smirked.

"Don't let Charlie hear you say that." Josiah chuckled. "He tried to make it better, but Al just wouldn't listen."

"He does seem like a hard man to talk to." Seth made a sound in his throat and both Raylan and Josiah looked up at the other man.

"Mister Givens you might want to take back any ill meant words about Mister Swearengen; he and Mister Bullock have an uneasy understanding... it doesn't bode well for you if you make enemies this quickly." Raylan raised his eyes to Seth's and saw the burning passion of a man trying to protect his friend. He'd only seen that once recently in Boyd's eyes out at the cabin and it scared him as much now as it did then.

"I'm sorry if I caused offence that wasn't what I was meaning." Raylan soothed with his soft, velvet southern voice that could melt the coldest heart and repair the most hurtful of wounds. Seth watched his double as the lines on his face stood out as he smiled in an offer of peace and was struck again by the similarity between them; fewer scars and more laughter lines, but deep down Seth knew they were the same person. He knew they had the same soul, even if it wasn't possible.

Seth nodded to Raylan and sat down as a moan roused all three of them and they looked at the cells behind them and watched as a head of unruly black hair moved up from the floor.

"My, oh my." The Harlan County drawl said as the possessor of the voice stood up. "Lordy, that was one for the books." He rubbed his head and turned to face the three law men. "But how did I get this here bump on my head. I remember you and the young one rounding us up and hauling us in here, but I don't remember anything else." He rubbed his eyes and then stared straight at Raylan. "Lo and behold what do I see here? Can it really be Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens? I thought your boss told you not to chase me and my boys across state lines."

"Hold your tongue Wallace." Josiah bit out, Raylan could feel himself begin to grind his molars and looking to Seth he could see he was doing the same. Finally he could see that the other man was fighting the urge to haul Raylan outside and beat him in to the dirt. He watched as the Sheriff reached for his gun that was slung low on his hip, but he didn't take it out of its holster he just rested his hand on the sandalwood butt.

"Well I might hold my tongue." Wallace said eyeing Josiah, "If you'll shackle the good Marshal in here with us as he is going against his orders from the top." He put a hand through his hair and stared at Raylan with his brown eyes that were alight with mischief. When he looked at the man that was called Wallace Hunt; he knew he was losing his mind. This man was Boyd Crowder from the tips of his always unruly hair to the bottom point of his scuffed spurs. There was no denying it.

"I thought you weren't in Deadwood on Marshal business." Seth said shortly with eyes as thin as slits.

"I'm not," Raylan said glaring at Wallace who just smiled oddly back at him.

"Well lookey here," Wallace slurred in a way Boyd never did. "It seems the honourable Sheriff has a rouge Marshal on his hands. How does it feel to have one of your own defying orders? Sir." Seth looked at Raylan and Raylan knew this was it. He had no idea that one could feel so terrified in a dream, but as he sat watching Seth remove his gun from his holster fingers of ice cold fear threaded down his spine.

"You better start talking." Seth said a hard edge to his voice as he levelled the muzzle of the gun at him, one Raylan knew well. It was the edge he reserved for Gary and homicidal maniacs like Tommy Bucks. This encounter was not going to end well.

"As I told you at _The Gem_ I don't know how I got here. I woke up near the cemetery with no knowledge of how I came to be here, or that I had even left Lexington." Raylan said his normally smooth voice a little hitched. Wallace cackled from the cell.

"Of course you don't." He said with a wide grin that showed to perfection the insanity that ran in Boyd's veins as well. "I had Jacky boy here..." He pointed to one of the other incarcerated men in the cell, "I had him pistol whip you 'round the back of the head." He cackled again clapping his hands together like a little kid. "Then... this is the best bit, by the good Lord it is, I brought you up here with us... drugged o'course and then we left you at the front of town. We weren't expecting to run in to your righteous cousin here and get clapped up in here." He rubbed his face calming down a little as he did it. "I was wanting one of these fair ole' Law men to find you and then report you to Lexington and then I was hoping that if my plan worked you would lose your badge and then I would never have to see your ugly face again!" As soon as Wallace had finished the sound of a shot rang out across the freight office and Raylan watched as spotted sunlight filtered in from the hole in the roof.

"You will hold your tongue." Seth enunciated slowly so even the stupidest of people would be able to follow it. "You abducted a law man that is a far worse offence than public urination or disturbing the peace."

"Come on now Sheriff." Wallace said as if cajoling a small child. "That doesn't seem fair, you wouldn't even know about Mister Givens trip if the imbecile hadn't wandered in to town." He pleaded at the Sheriff with wide open and seemingly innocent brown eyes.

"It would still be an offence if I knew it or not." Seth said his voice hard again and his gun levelled at Wallace now not Raylan. "But since you admitted to this crime, I'm afraid that I am going to have to take you and your men to Yankton for trial." Wallace's face lost all pretence and Raylan could see he was scared. He didn't like that look on Boyd's face. The man he knew was never scared; insane... yes, positively annoying... without a doubt, stupid... yes and brave even in the face of danger? Above and beyond any decent sort of human behaviour; scared however was not a look that was good on a face like Boyd's because it wasn't just fear it was desperation.

Raylan stepped in front of Seth's gun his hands raised at both Wallace and Seth. He began to wonder if he should just stand like that in Deadwood, because he had spent most of his time in the city with his arms raised in surrender.

"Sheriff Bullock." Raylan said addressing his double who was fingering his trigger in the way Raylan knew well; he wanted to take a shot at someone, not something. "I have some leave to take, my friend vanished recently and my boss back in Lexington is worried that I might do something..." he stood thinking of the best word to choose, what had Art said when Raylan was playing with fire with Winona? "Stupid." He decided was the best way to put it. "Why don't we say that I took a trip and ended in the same place as Mister Hunt and that he only disturbed the peace of lovely Deadwood." Raylan raised his eyebrows so high that if he had been wearing his hat they would have been lost under the brim. Seth considered what was being said and Raylan knew every thought that he was thinking from the flashes of emotion that crossed the other man's face.

"I can live with that." Seth conceded holstering his gun again before he sat down and pulled forms towards him. "However if Mister Hunt causes any more trouble I will take him to Yankton for trial." He looked up to the brown eyes that were evaluating him through the cell bars. "Do you understand?" Seth asked and Raylan watched as Wallace nodded. "Good, I'll let you and your men out at sunset and I don't want to see you in Deadwood again. Ya here me?" Wallace nodded again and sat down on the floor of his cell.

Raylan sat at the desk again and picked up some of the forms and he realised that Josiah had filled in all the names of the outlaws and that the three of them only had to fill in the rest of the form stating the reason for the arrest and holding of the criminals. As always the paperwork was more than dull. However unlike back with Art he didn't feel as if the paperwork was useless. When the three of them had finished the forms Seth put them in an envelope to send to Yankton. Raylan could only guess that it was being sent to the main office of the court for filing purposes because when they had finished Josiah saddled up a horse and left without a word and Seth only nodded. As if he had done exactly as he was supposed to.

"He should make it back from Yankton by dawn tomorrow." Seth said after a period of silence. Raylan nodded and fought the urge to put his feet up on the desk.

"Hey." Wallace exclaimed, "Will you let us out now?" he asked pointing out of the cell at the sky, "You said you'd let me and my boys out at sundown and well..." he left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air as the doppelgänger looked to the sky and Seth sighed rubbing his eyes in a way Raylan did at the end of a long tiring case. He stood up from his chair almost resignedly and walked over to the cells. He opened the cell with a large screeching of metal on metal and let Wallace and his men out. Wallace smiled the smile of a maniac and made his way out of the office with the swagger of a man with delusions of grandeur, not much different to Boyd, Raylan thought. As he reached the thoroughfare Wallace turned on his heels his hands raised to the heavens a look of rapture on his features.

"Thank the Lord for this fortuitous meeting, thank you Raylan Givens for your forgiving nature and thank you Seth Bullock for your righteous and easy acquiescence of the situation that was laid at your feet. Very fortuitous indeed." He then turned to his men and laughed, "Come on boys let us beat feet and leave this little town for pastures new."

"Good riddance." Seth muttered under his breath as Wallace and his crew turned towards the hostelry to find their horses. "Why is it that the lawless are always attracted to out of the way towns?" He asked turning to Raylan. Raylan shrugged in the nonchalant way he did everything else and replied with,

"Where I grew up everyone was pretty lawless. Being lawless was the way to be. In backwards towns being lawless stops boredom and to some extent insanity. Well that's my take on it anyhow." Seth rubbed his jaw and smiled.

"You may be right." He replied simply. "I know you probably have plans, but I was wondering if you would take dinner with me and my wife?" Raylan was stunned and for the longest time didn't know how to respond. He had never been good with other couples; damn he'd been pretty bad at being in a relationship period, but there was something earnest in Seth's eyes that made it hard for Raylan to say no out of hand. He picked up his hat and ran his hand around the rim while he thought and he watched as Seth stared at him oddly watching the motion of his hands.

"It'd be my pleasure to accompany you and your wife as long as it wouldn't be too much of an imposition." He tacked on the end with the diplomacy that he had cultured since arriving back in Harlan County. Seth shook his head smiling in the way that was hidden by his moustache.

"It won't be an imposition at all; we usually have Sol around for dinner, but tonight is..." he rubbed his chin in an almost embarrassed manner as he tried to search for a word. "The evening that he spends in Trixie's company... alone." He finished allusively, however his meaning was apparent. "So Martha will be happy at a change of company. I must warn you we had a small disagreement." He said with a distinct roll of his eyes, "Over my propriety when outlaws come to town, I don't think it should be a problem, but if my wife seems a little short with me that would be the reason of it." Raylan looked at Seth shocked and yet still admiring of his candour. For all his words Raylan knew he couldn't be that open to his friends never mind a complete stranger. "Shall we go?" Seth inquired placing his hat on his head in the way that Raylan did fingers on the top pushing the brim to the tips of his ears. It was more than a little disconcerting seeing a man mirror your movements, even more so since the man looked like your mirror image, but younger. Raylan nodded to Seth and put his hat on and watched Seth's eyes widen slightly in surprise. Raylan knew that look and knew that he had much the same one when Seth had put on his hat. No wonder everyone stared at the pair of them because they were essentially the same person even Raylan knew that. Which made the whole experience a hell of a lot more scary. Not that Raylan Givens ever admitted to fear.


	3. Chapter 3

Seth led the way back into the thoroughfare and turned right taking the sucking mud at an impressive pace. It must have been an art form that was acquired after months of living in Deadwood Raylan decided because Seth had no difficulty traversing the quagmire at their feet. When Raylan wasn't paying inordinate amounts of attention to his feet he risked a glance up the thoroughfare and saw at the top of it a large house of great beauty. Raylan had always wanted a house like that; wood panelling a window seat and plenty of room. That was what he had wanted for him and Winona when they had first got married. He didn't care if they didn't have a white picket fence all he wanted was the beautiful house and the beautiful wife to come home to.

It had never been what Winona had wanted she didn't want a clap-board house; it reminded her too much of Kentucky, she had wanted the best brick building they could find; large, cold and impersonal to which when Raylan thought about it suited them fine. Especially in the last months of the marriage; which was sadder to admit than he had imagined it would be.

They continued up the thoroughfare passed _The Gem_ and Al who was standing at the doors a tin cup in his hand. When they passed he nodded and Seth nodded back a silent form of communication that Raylan knew came from knowing the other person well. He had that with Art to a degree and some moments he would catch himself when he realised that he was beginning to get that way with Tim, whom for the most part was a mystery to him; mainly because it was difficult to get an accurate read on the younger Marshal. This Raylan had to admit mainly came from the fact that he rarely talked and when he did it was either to snark at someone or make a monosyllable remark to something. Saying that Raylan really liked Tim there was something honest about him and also inherently deadly and that combo was a powder keg about to go off, which meant that Raylan would be the last of Art's problems... or so he hoped.

Raylan didn't notice how far up the thoroughfare they had got until he saw a hardware store with a queue outside it and Sol inside looking fit to hit someone. When he looked up again they were nearer to the beautiful house and they didn't seem to be turning. He couldn't believe this the man even lived in his dream house; it was far too much to take in. Seth turned and saw the veiled admiration on Raylan's face and decided to speak.

"I built this house not long after I moved here." When Raylan heard that he wanted to use some of the more colourful language he had heard at _The Gem_.

"It seems like an awful big house for you and your wife." Raylan remarked as they went up the steps that ran across the stream in front of the building.

"The house was originally for my wife and son, but he died." Raylan felt himself swallow, the loss of a child was not something he understood, but he knew somewhere deep that it would be a fate worse than death and worse than the haunted look Tim got in his eyes when he even alluded to his time as a sniper out in the sandbox.

"I'm sorry." He said thickly and shocked himself at how sincerely he meant it. He wasn't the only one a pair of concerned brown eyes evaluated his as they stood on the porch removing their boots.

"It was a long time ago now." Seth sighed, "He wasn't my son by blood though he was my brothers..." He glanced at Raylan as if trying to figure out if he should continue with the tale. When Raylan offered no resistance he carried on as he unlocked the front door. "She is my brother's widow, I married her so she would not suffer financially and for the longest time William was the only thing that kept us together. When we lost him I thought that would be it and that she would leave me for Michigan and her family." He paused his eyes warm. "She didn't leave and in the end she saved me." He pushed the door inwards and called out, "Martha?" when he had no response he walked in and invited Raylan in after him.

With the inside of the house you could see the distinct markings of a woman's touch; and unlike most houses Raylan had seen it didn't choke the house it made it homely and for the first time in a long time Raylan relaxed completely; this was a place that he could call home, unlike that stuffy house Winona had bought with Gary. When he looked at Seth he realised he wasn't the only one; Seth's shoulders softened and he left out a long breath that Raylan hadn't noticed he was holding. "Martha?" he called out again and in response there was a clatter of feet down the stairs and a bundle of black and blonde barrelled in to Seth's chest holding him tight.

"Where have you been? I was worried sick!" She sobbed openly into Seth's chest; from where he was stood Raylan could see the distinct signs of a blush high on Seth's cheeks, but he was happy that the other man did not push his wife away in embarrassment.

"I was at the Sheriff's office; I told you this morning Martha that I would be home late."

"Have they gone?" She asked without letting Seth finish,

"The lawless cowboys?" Seth asked and Martha sniffed in response, "Yes they have gone. I sent them out of Deadwood at sundown." Her tears stopped in an instant and she stood on her toes to kiss her husband without restraint. When they had broken apart Seth cleared his throat and stepped off to his side. "Martha we have a guest."

"Well Seth." She said in a way that Raylan thought meant she didn't use his Christian often and for some reason it was endearing to Raylan. "If it is Mr Star it isn't like he hasn't seen affection like that before.

"Martha," Seth said softly, "This is Deputy Marshall Raylan Givens." Martha stumbled back her face red with embarrassment as she looked up at Raylan,

"I'm sorry for my boldness Sir," she stuttered as she curtsied still not making eye contact with the other man. Raylan smiled, not that she could see and then spoke.

"I'm not the sort of man to stop the love between a harried wife and her lawman husband, Missus Bullock." He took her hand softly and pulled her in to a standing position. When he let go of her hand and the blush that had burned her skin red had subsided she finally looked up at him and gasped, before collapsing on him in a dead faint.

"We maybe should have warned her first." Raylan said to Seth over the top of Martha's head.

"You may speak the truth Mister Givens."

"Raylan please," he replied and Seth nodded. "Do you want to move her upstairs?" he asked the other man and Seth shook his head,

"Let us lie her down on the Ottoman next to the fire. The heat should bring her around." Raylan took Martha's shoulders and Seth grabbed his wife's feet as the two men muscled her on to the Ottoman next to a roaring fire that was within the hearth. Seth found a throw and wrapped his wife in it his face tender with concern not that his hands showed that as he made quick work of getting her comfortable.

"It seems that I have made more trouble for you." Raylan said in a tone of voice he didn't recognise as his own, it wasn't unusual for him to be in a position to cause trouble for other people... he just normally tried to not do that for well meaning strangers. He was always making trouble for Art or any other law enforcement officer he came across. Tom the state trooper included; when he thought of his friend he felt a pang of regret, he really wished he could have saved him. Apparently it wasn't supposed to be.

"Think nothing of it," Seth said with a crooked smile. "It is nice for me to not be the one making the trouble around here. Usually it is me or Al, or on some occasions the both of us." Seth quirked his eyes brow, "I happen to like not being the one that raises the roofs from time to time." He leant over the table then and said, "Not that you have caused us any real trouble, I think women need a fainting spell every so often, it keeps them in health." Raylan thought that was the most absurd idea that he had ever heard of, but knew not to speak it out loud. The pair stayed quiet for a few minutes as Martha turned over on the Ottoman towards the fire sighing softly. "How long have you known Hunt?" Seth asked eventually with acute awareness that took Raylan momentarily off guard. "I do not mean to pry, but the malice in that man's eyes smarts of a shared history." He continued his eyes scanning Raylan with a depth that rivalled Tim's when he wanted answers; especially ones that Raylan was not willing to give. Raylan thought for a second about how much of the truth he could use, his standard answer was _we dug coal together_ and people just accepted it no other questions asked, but for the people here in Deadwood he didn't think it was going to fly. If he remembered rightly most people in a profession of that nature lived and died in its grips in this time period. He knew from his history lessons as a boy that as many men that made money from the gold rush; just as many died from it. He was sure that the same could be said for all men that mined the earth for what she had to offer.

"We grew up together," he said finally, "Our families are both filled with the crooked and the cruelest of men. I chose a different path. If I'd done as Hunt had done I would be like him; more of a devil. Less of a man." Seth nodded and Raylan caught a glimpse of the darkness Seth always carried with him. It reminded him of something Winona had told him not so long ago, that he was the angriest man she had ever met; not on the outside, but deep inside. It would appear that Seth battled with that as well.

"Not that we are always the most righteous of men," Seth added with a bitterness that Raylan couldn't really understand,

"How so?" He asked enthralled by the other man.

"We claim that we are the law and that we are doing the good of men, on some occasions we are little better than our Pinkerton brothers. We use violence when understanding would suffice; we claim that we are just, yet we are but mere moments from hell ourselves." Raylan stared at his double and was touched by the conflict and torture that he found in the depths of the brown eyes before him.

"It's a tough brand of justice we live by that's for sure." Raylan said in response and Seth scoffed, "But we chose this life, if we backed down now we would be no better than the men we detain."

"I think Mister Givens that we may have to agree to disagree on this point. I do my job and I do it well, but most days I am not happy at the outcome of the actions I chose." Raylan smirked and rubbed his hand over the stubble on his jaw.

"I shot him once," Raylan said after a beat and Seth smiled, "He threatened a woman who knew all too well the business end of a rifle. So I gave him a choice. He could drop the weapon he had trained on her or I would shoot him. I told him that if I had to draw my weapon I would have to drop him." Seth laughed,

"True words no doubt," Raylan nodded,

"He thought he could beat me on the draw."

"I take it he was wrong?" Seth asked a touch of admiration in his gaze.

"Oh most definitely," Raylan replied as there was a knock on the door, low and urgent. Martha sat up on the Ottoman and stretched slightly her hair mussed and her eyes still glassy from sleep.

"Who is it?" She asked making a move to stand up. Seth leapt from the table and took her in his arms,

"You should rest; I will answer the door to whoever is on the other side." He sat her back down gently and made his way to the door as he passed Raylan he nodded and Raylan stood too resting his hand on the gun butt at his hip as he followed Seth to the door. Seth opened it and sighed, "In Christ's name what are you doing here at this time of night Harry?!" Raylan saw the man on the doorstep who was Hunter Mosley as the day is long and he saw the fear in the man's eyes. He knew when Seth saw it as he froze in place, "Harry what has happened man?!" He asked his voice edge with steel.

"They got Josiah; Bullock, Doc doesn't think he will pass the night." Raylan heard Martha gasp and when he turned she saw her behind him her hand to her mouth stifling the sobs; he walked to her and she fell in to his chest crying as Seth spoke to Harry in hushed tones on the doorstep.

"He was such a good boy," Martha said in to his chest, "More nights than not we had both him and Sol over for dinner, I have never seen a boy blush in front of a woman so much." Raylan smiled as he thought of Tim; he could imagine him also being unsure of himself around women. Assault rifles he was fine with, but the fairer sex would Raylan was sure give him pause. "I hate this spiteful town and what it does to people. It seems that no matter how hard we try to make this town better we never seem to get further forward." He almost laughed at that as it sounded just like Harlan County. Like anything else it was a hydra you cut off one head and another five replace it. When Martha had calmed down she sat at the table staring in to space her warm gaze empty and sad. Raylan felt his heart ache for the loss he saw there and then remembered what Seth had said about losing his son, from the love and regard she had for Josiah it would seem that Martha had lost two sons now, one blood kin and the other adopted by her large heart.

When Seth had finished at the door he turned to Martha and Raylan and his face was haunted.

"They found his body being dragged by his horse near the cemetery," he said in a low whisper to Raylan, "I would be honoured if you would accompany me." Raylan nodded and Seth almost smiled. "Martha," he said softly holding the hand of his wife with the utmost care. She looked up at him and held tight to his hand. "Mister Givens and I are going to see to Josiah, I will be back as soon as I can. Lock the door when we leave and let no one in but us when we return." She nodded blankly and dropped his hand. Seth turned from his wife and gave Raylan an almost rueful smile, "It would appear we have been invited to a little hell raising." As they walked to the door Raylan couldn't tell if Seth was saddened or excited by the prospect.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Sorry for the delay I have been rushed off my feet that I have never just had a moment to sit down and write._

* * *

Raylan didn't mind admitting that he had seen his fair share of bloodshed, hell he had dealt most of it out if he were honest. Nothing however had prepared him for this; not even Helen's shooting had prepared him for this.

He and Seth walked into the cemetery to a crowd of people from all walks of life, Al who was stood near the front with his stained under shirt on turned and even his eyes held an edge of disgust at what he had just witnessed.

"Well Lordy me aren't I so fucking glad that the law has wandered back in to town." Raylan felt himself bite down on his retort when Seth just nodded slightly in the direction of the saloon owner. "It would appear old friend that your young one is on his merry way to saint Peter's as we stand here and watch." When he had finished Al stepped back to let Seth and Raylan through. When he saw Josiah his stomach roiled.

At his feet lay Tim all bent and mangled as if he had been fifty rounds with the world's strongest man. He shook himself and tried to remind himself that it wasn't Tim it was just someone who looked like him, but it didn't work. The mangled version of Tim at his feet gurgled as the blood in his lungs threatened to drown him and Raylan took a knee. He'd seen enough death bed confessions to know when one was about to occur.

"Anyone got a knife?" Raylan asked looking at the reins that were tangled around Josiah's legs knowing that they were one part of the young man's discomfort. Other than the bullet wound he was sporting and the beating he had taken. In the back of the crowd he heard a low rumble of what he thought was Chinese and then heard the sharp exhale of a curse from what he assumed was Al.

"Well hurry the fuck up Wu, the man ain't got all fucking day!" He finished reigning in his extensive vocabulary for a second at least. There was a shuffle of feet and when Raylan turned he saw a stout man wielding a machete at him. Had he not seen stunts like this in Harlan County he may have passed out from fright. Instead he nodded to the man and tightened the reins so he could cut through them in one strike. When the leather had been cut Raylan lay Josiah's leg down and cradled the young man's face on his lap.

"Josiah," he murmured softly hearing the young man's breath rattle out of him. When the blue eyes looked up at him he saw every moment he had ever spent with Tim flash before his eyes.

The first day he had met the young Deputy Marshal he had thought him a smart ass with a wicked mouth in his ill fitting suit and slicked back hair. When they next met he realised how wrong he was about Tim, yes he was still a smart ass with a wicked mouth on him, but there was so much more than people didn't see. He's played pranks on Raylan that were as childish as they were funny. He had made a point of telling Raylan how much he enjoyed being used as a guard dog with so much snark that it had almost floored him. Raylan knew the younger man loved his job and wanted to keep it at all costs. He may be the powder keg that Art worried about exploding, but to Raylan Tim would always be the smart ass who knew how to make him smile as much as he knew how to make him frown. He was a necessary cog in the Lexington office and the thought of seeing him hurt tore a hole in his heart that made him take a breath. He felt fingers clawing at his arm and looked down to see Josiah struggle to make purchase on the worn cotton of his shirt,

"Hunt," Josiah said on a sigh as his lids fell closed, "Caught… me… unaware…" each word was punctuated with a breath that wracked his broken frame. Josiah coughed and Raylan saw the wince as blood seeped from the younger man's chapped lips. "Coming… back… Yankton… ambushed…" he said again as Raylan tried to staunch the blood flowing from the gunshot wound in his lower abdomen, "Sends… his… regards…" he finished with one final cough before his body went rigid and his eyes closed a final time. Raylan felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Seth, the deputy put gentle pressure on Raylan before he stepped back his other hand resting lightly on the holster at his hip; his trigger finger as twitchy as Raylan's.

As Raylan stood he picked up Josiah's body and looked at Seth expectantly.

"We'll take him to _The Gem_," Seth said looking at Al who only shrugged his shoulders.

"The man was a paying customer under my roof I won't bar him entry in death," he said taking a sip from his tin cup. In that moment Raylan felt kinship with the saloon owner and could imagine that was how Seth also felt about him. Though in some glances he could tell the pair of them had a past history that contained hatred and violence, but what man in Deadwood wouldn't; there was no law in towns like these when they had started. The rich got richer, the poor got poorer. As Raylan walked up towards _The Gem_ holding Josiah's body close to him he realised that as much as the wooden houses had become brick, nothing had really changed with the world from this time to the one he lived in.

Raylan entered _The Gem_ behind Al who pointed him to a room near the back on the ground floor,

"Deputy Gutterson spent most of him time in there. We can use it to get him cleaned up and ready for burial." Raylan was grateful and made his way towards the room, he had made it half way across the floor when Al spoke again; "you are going after them aren't you?" He asked with quiet malice, "Those there weren't the normal Hoopleheads we deal with here." Raylan felt his mouth stretch in to a grin that he knew was filled with vengeance.

"I think Hunt has been given a long enough rope to which to hang himself. It's time we reeled it in." He replied feeling the need to put a bullet in the man. It was as powerful as his need to shoot Tommy Bucks after he had hurt that innocent, it was as all consuming as the hate he had for Arlo after all his father had put him through. He was going to find Wallace Hunt and he was going to give him a choice, he hoped that at the end of the day he would get to put a bullet in the man, it would be cathartic. It would be like shooting Boyd all over again, but this time for a crime more serious than threatening Ava. People didn't just shoot the friends of Raylan Givens and live to tell the tale.

* * *

The Deputy Marshall was annoyed, that much was clear to Seth as he loped beside the other man as they walked in to _The Gem_. A deadly calm had enveloped him as if he had seen a ghost; there was a haunted look to his eyes that made Seth believe that he knew Josiah Gutterson better than either of them had let on. It was as if he had met kin in Josiah and now he was on the verge of swearing vengeance on his rapidly cooling corpse.

They both walked in to the room that Al had pointed out and when Seth had shut them in together Raylan let out a howl as if the man were possessed. He laid the body of the dead deputy on the bed and fell to his knees weeping as if he were a child. It was in that moment that Seth understood something so elemental that it almost unbalanced him,

"You have never lost someone on the job have you?" He asked as he leant against the wall in the dark space. Raylan turned to him, his face pale,

"I have," he said softly on a whisper, "I couldn't save him either." Seth knew from experience that Raylan was a man that kept all but his anger in check; that demon had free reign in his daily life. His grief however was always kept under lock and key. Seth could understand the need for self preservation in a life like theirs, but he no longer practised it. He had found it was better for him and those he cared for if he let himself be taken away by his emotions every once in a while.

"Josiah understood the risks of being a law man in a place such as this," Seth said crossing his arms gently as he moved to stand with one leg bent against the door.

"Hunt wouldn't be here if it wasn't for me!" Raylan almost spat out vehemently.

"And he could have still been felled by another of the bastards." Seth replied with venom knowing that his anguish at loosing the wild mouthed youth was coming to the fore. When he looked up at the other law man he realised that Raylan had once again got a leash on his emotions as he stood and began to meticulously remove Josiah's clothing and belongings. He placed his shield and gun on the night stand and then began to peel off layer after blood soaked layer of clothing from the younger man. Each item that was removed hit the buckled wooden floor boards with a sodden splat; staining the murky hardwood a rusty red. Raylan had reached the last few scraps of material when there was a sharp knock on the door that made both Raylan and Seth flinch.

Seth opened the door to find Jewel on the other side of the threshold holding a dish of steaming water and a cloth her wide cow like eyes filled with equal amounts of awe and regret. Seth took the bowl out of her hands and gave her a kindly nod. She smiled and turned on her stiff leg and then glanced back at Seth and spoke in a soft tone,

"It's not right what they did, he was a good man," Seth smiled at the homely cleaning lady and watched as she walked back up the hallway dragging her leg helplessly behind her. From the main room Seth could hear Al shout,

"Here she fucking goes again dragging that fucking leg! Even with this piece of shit brace thing it sounds like some kind of fucking funeral dirge." Seth shook his head at Al's words and closed the door.

"He is such a charming man," Raylan said smoothing Josiah's hair. Seth felt himself chuckle as he placed the basin beside the bed.

"I know it doesn't seem like it, but he actually truly cares for Jewel; anyone else would have left her where they found her. He only outwardly despises her... I'm sure." It was Raylan's turn to laugh before he knelt and took the cloth from Seth to place in the water.

The pair worked in silence as they cleaned Josiah and redressed him. When they had finished Raylan looked at the newly clothed Josiah and was struck again by how much it would kill him if he ever lost Tim. He could just imagine him sitting up on the bed rubbing he eyes and looking at Raylan as he said,

_"I love this shit, this shit makes me hard!"_ In his rakish drawl before he swung his legs off the bed and walked haphazardly out the door as if he had been on an all night bender. He wished in some closed off part of himself that the body on the bed would do just that, but it didn't. Josiah Gutterson was no more.

"Would you like to say a few words?" Seth asked his shrewd eyes merely narrow slits of understanding.

"I wouldn't know where to start." Raylan replied, "I didn't know the man." Seth leant towards him and touched his arm lightly in comfort.

"But you know someone like him," it wasn't a question and Seth stated it like he knew Raylan inside and out. "What would you say to him?" He asked this time. Raylan looked at his counterpart quizzically and for a moment Seth looked embarrassed, that was one look that Raylan had never seen on himself as there was not much in the world that could embarrass him as he walked head long in to stupidity day in and out. "It's something that Martha would say, she is far better at giving comfort than I." Raylan smiled at Seth before he replied,

"Don't sell yourself short kid," Raylan sighed and took Josiah Gutterson's cool and partially stiff hand in his own feeling the gun calluses on his palm and fingertips rub against his own. "I wish I could have been there to see you fight, because I know without a doubt that you would have given them hell up until the very last second. You are as tough as hell and as laid back as a frat boy. Even then it's in your eyes, the look of a sharp shooter a man that is willing to get the job done no matter the cost. I'm awed and I envy that conviction. You are a great man, but an even greater Deputy." Raylan finished and laid Josiah's arm across his chest. Seth mirror the action and the pair stared at the youth for a second before Seth cleared his throat and spoke in a hushed whisper.

"When you arrived here," he said in to the dark and for a moment Raylan didn't know who he was addressing. Seth cleared his throat again and rubbed the heel of his hand in to his left eye and started again, ""When you arrived here, I thought you were wet behind the ears, but you surprised me. You possessed a wisdom and clarity that I could never truly fathom. You saw things I always missed. I am better at my job because of you. Deadwood is better because of you. Whatever roads you now travel go in peace my friend." Raylan looked up from the bed and looked into Seth's more youthful, but wiser eyes and saw a flash of paternal pride in them. He knew that is it had been Tim lying on the bed that he would look much the same way.

In ways that he couldn't even begin to understand or more to the point didn't want to understand. The Lexington office had become like his family. Art was the father he had never had; strong, straight as an arrow and willing to put him down with words not fists. Rachel was the smart and good sister who never stepped her toes over the line and who put Raylan to shame without even trying. Tim, Tim... he was the young and reckless brother who swung between being like Rachel who he admired and Raylan that he quietly idolised. Not that he would ever admit it. Raylan had never really had a family that he would say he loved unconditionally, but as he glanced at Josiah's face he knew that he did have one now.

"So Deputy Sherriff," he said walking around the bed to clap Seth on the shoulder. "Do we corral the posse now?" he asked; he received a bamboozled look in response and that was enough to tell Raylan that all the Wild West movies had it wrong. He backpedalled slightly before trying again; "Hunt, how will we catch him?" Seth stroked his moustache for a second before a feral grin spread across his features. Raylan had seen that look before on his own face, it was as reckless as it was desperate and it did nothing to comfort him. Before Raylan could ask Seth more he had turned on his heel and left the room only pausing for a second in the doorway with a devious look in his eye.

"Josiah will be of use to us for a little while longer." He said his words taking on an almost deadly edge as he looked towards the bed, "Your Country thanks you for your continued service," Seth added as an almost throw away comment and then vanished down the hall as silent as a ghost.

Raylan stared at Josiah's body for what seemed like a age trying desperately to understand what Seth had meant. Had Seth been a member of the Dixie Mafia or the Bennett Clan he would have known in an instant. He understood the criminal ilk far too well; if you shared hell with other people, Raylan knew he stood a better chance with the demons than he ever would with the angels. Raylan chose hell any day of the week. Angels he didn't understand and for all his talk he knew that Seth was a straight sword of justice. In Deadwood he was the right hand of God for better or for worse.

"Hey Marshall," Al called from the door, "If I were you I'd hurry your pretty little behind outta here before our stupid motherfucking deputy scalps those cock sucking Hoopleheads." Raylan looked at the man in the doorway taking in all the details of him that he could.

"You are on our side right?" He asked caring for once that they had back up.

"Me and Bullock took a tumble a while back, I ain't been right in the head since." Al replied taking an imaginary piece of lint off his under shirt. Raylan knew that the answer he had been given wasn't a yes, but by the set of the man he also knew it wasn't a no either. He walked passed Al and asked.

"Where will I find him?"

"By the way he took off I'd say that paper. No fucking clue what he would want there." In a moment of clarity Raylan knew Seth's plan and punched Al in the arm receiving a glare in response.

"What is it with you fucking lawmen, are you all out of your God Damn minds?" Raylan turned on his heel at the end of the hallway and tipped the brim of his hat at Al with a lopsided grin plastered across his face.

"Sir, I think it just might be a legal requirement."


	5. Chapter 5

_AN: Well folks it has come to an end, thanks for all the support. I really didn't think anyone would have any interest in this story so I'm really happy that there are people who have liked it._

* * *

It was cold in the cemetery Raylan noted as dusk settled over Deadwood. He and Seth were sat against one of the grave markers on the hill eating beans that Martha had packed them off with as she had tried desperately to convince herself that stood on the doorstep waving Seth off would not be the last time that she saw her husband.

Earlier in the afternoon Raylan had found Seth at the newspaper office of _The Deadwood Pioneer _which he realised was only a few doors down from _The Gem_. Seth was pacing across the rough hewn boards as he thought of what the telegram to the main paper in Yankton should say.

"Is alive and kicking a little too obvious?" He asked a large man with ginger hair and a moustache as a squirrely looking man with curly hair took notes. Raylan could only guess that the larger man was the editor of the newspaper and the quiet man in the corner next to the telegraph was its operator. Seth turned to the larger man and looked at him intently before he grinned, "We want to tempt Hunt and his gang back without them looking like fools for falling in to our trap." Raylan tapped politely on the door frame and all three men turned towards him. The larger man rubbed his moustache as he did a double take and the quiet man stuttered in what Raylan assumed was German. When the room was quiet again Raylan noticed that the larger man had started making notes on a ledger and he could only imagine the headlines he was spinning. As a man Raylan Givens had made the headlines more than once he wouldn't deny that. They were usually something to do with some shoot out he had been involved in; or the fact that he would take a person down if they put a gun to him. The one that he could imagine this man writing however would be the strangest one yet.

"There you are Raylan," Seth said with an almost insane glint in his eye. Which Raylan had to admit was another thing about Seth that he recognised as part of himself. Neither of them backed away from anything, no matter how harebrained the scheme. Raylan had willingly gone against Mags Bennett solo and she was not a woman that many people walked away from and from the sounds of things it would seem that Seth had done similar stunts on more than one occasion. At the thought Raylan felt a shimmer of pride that maybe he had more in common with this Deputy than he thought. "This," Seth said motioning to the larger man who was sat at a desk, "Is Mister A W Merrick and he runs the paper," He turned on his heel then as Raylan tilted his head in greeting, "And this is Mister Blazanov," he finished pointing to the quiet man in the corner, "He operates the telegram." Seth paced for a few more minutes before he spoke again, "The pair of them tell the news; well what little we have in Deadwood and now that we have the telegram we can send it all over, like that god forsaken rail road." Seth muttered and Raylan felt the distinct weight of his iPhone in his pocket. He didn't want to find out what Seth would say to that god forsaken piece of technology. Raylan would be rid of it himself if it weren't so damn useful.

"Mister Bullock says you want to send a telegram to Yankton in as so much to say that Joshiah survived the attack. Is that right Mister..."

"Marshall Givens," Seth corrected Mister Merrick gently.

"A Marshall?" Merrick asked and began to make notes again, "We aint seen any of your kind since those Earp brothers." He started nodding to himself as he continued to write. "Sorry for my excitement Marshall Givens; Deadwood is pretty lawless, no offence," He added as glanced at Seth who had become momentarily stiff. "No matter it's state though I still call it home." At that Raylan looked at Seth expectantly, but the Deputy only tipped his hat in the editor's direction. Raylan hated small talk as much as he could tell Seth did.

"It's quite all right. I was here to meet Deputy Bullock."

"So what do you think?" Seth asked Raylan as he ran a hand along his jaw.

"Alive and kicking is too obvious; Hunt maybe stupid, but he is not that dumb." Seth nodded a little resignedly.

"The Marshall is right about that," He murmured as he ran a hand over his moustache in thought, "But how else will we catch the man?" He asked looking around the office for inspiration.

"You catch him the way you catch any other criminal." Raylan said with a crooked smile, "You appeal to his vanity. Trust me Hunt has it in spades." Seth smiled softly at Raylan in gratitude and the the pair went on to draft the message that would catch Hunt's eye and lead the wayward stray back to Deadwood.

* * *

So after an afternoon of intrigue the pair were watching the sun make its way over to the horizon as the cold set in South Dakota and for a moment Raylan wished that he had been wearing his jacket to bed. That way he would have woken up in it in Deadwood; even if the idea did sound like insanity to him. The pair had been silent for a time after they had finished the meal that Martha had packed for them. The only sound being the crickets as they watched the empty road, when finally Seth spoke up,

"Do you think he will come?" Without a second thought Raylan nodded.

"If he is anything like I believe him to be, he hates to leave a job half done." Seth swore viciously and swiftly under his breath and Raylan had to suppress a smirk. It almost sounded as if Al had rubbed off a little on the straight laced Deputy Sheriff.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" Raylan found himself asking, Seth looked at him a little oddly, but nodded, "How are you not Sheriff? If you don't mind me asking," Seth up at him again and in the remaining fading light Raylan could see that Seth was squinting hard as if he was using the last few rays of light to analyse him from head to toe. Eventually he shrugged and leant back against the grave marker making it crack suspiciously.

"Politics mainly. I don't have a head to play the game how it's supposed to be played." Raylan could understand that. If you were good at your job, you were good at your job. You shouldn't have need to sweet talk your way in to position. What you do in your current job should hold its own merit. To Raylan it seemed unfair; people kept pushing him in to moulds that he didn't fit and the one man he met that fitted that mould of a good officer of the law wasn't given the opportunity to shine. Raylan could see that Seth was good at his job and that the people loved him in their own way; he seemed to Raylan to be the perfect man to be Sheriff. As he glanced at a face that was younger in years than his own, but wiser in so many ways he had to admit that he was being a little biased. He had yet to meet the actual Sheriff of Deadwood. He wanted to ask Seth about him, but it seemed like the other man was deep in thought a brooding look of melancholy contorting his features.

After that the pair fell back in to a silence that was a comforting wall around them; that was until they heard the distinct sound of approaching hooves cutting in to the dirt of the hillside which resounded violently in the still night air. The horse and its rider came to a halt at the top of the cemetery.

"Well what do we have here?" Hunt asked in his Boyd style Kentucky drawl that had the effect on Raylan of nails across a chalk board. He also heard the distinct click of a gun being cocked which shattered the fragile peace that was hanging across the cemetery and the unlawful town beyond it.

"You level that weapon at us and I will put you down." Raylan said softly, but clearly in to the night.

"I think this is what my pose would call entrapment, Mister Law Man Sir." Hunt said in an almost young school boy way. At the sound of his voice both arms of the law ground their teeth in seething hatred.

"I really dislike that man," Seth murmured as he moved his revolver out of its holster.

"Count me double on that," Raylan replied as he stood and turned to face Hunt, "What would you know about entrapment?" Raylan asked the silhouette at the top of the hill.

"Well you set a trap... to entrap me!" Hunt said with a shrug and levelled his gun at Raylan, "But you can't catch me. I am justice. I am the law. I was sent by God to make you Godless law men repent your sins!"

"Is that what we call beating a man to death these days?! Repentance!?" Raylan glanced at Seth and smiled dangerously. "I will have to remember that the next time one of your lot gets hurt on my watch." Raylan laid his hand over his holster leaving his side arm in place. "I met a man like you once. He thought that he had been saved by God and that he was supposed to lead the way to a new age. Do you know what happened to him?" Raylan asked before he carried on, "One night his father killed everything that he was trying to save and his faith was shattered. Something else about him. He was a better man than you could ever be. So come in quiet Hunt for the murder of Josiah Gutterson and at least you will be some sort of saviour to those of your ilk." Hunt laughed and it was the laugh of a deranged man; the laugh that Boyd had before Raylan had shot him. It was the laugh of a man that screams "_fire in the hole_" before he uses an RPG on a church. It was the laugh of a man that has nothing to live for and nothing to lose. In that moment he felt Seth stand as if he knew deep inside that what Hunt wanted more than anything else was to watch the world burn.

"Do you really think that I came back here so you could clap me in that post office and then lynch me in the street?" Hunt asked almost hysterical. "In that newspaper report it said that the Deputy that me and the boys hit was alive, but not awake. I didn't want him waking up and ratting me out."

"You are too late on both counts," Seth said with a bitter edge to his voice. "Deputy Marshall Josiah Gutterson died not long after you left him on the road side, but in his dying breath he told us who had left him in that way." Hunt swore at the top of his voice and would have given Al a run for his money from the colourful language he used.

"Well what are you waiting for?" Hunt asked as he reared his horse. "Three dead law men is nothing to me." He laughed and it was a hollow sound as he made the horse gallop across the grave markers towards them.

Seth had his gun out and levelled it at the moving target his hands shaking as he tried to make his aim steady. Raylan knew that no matter how well Seth shot on a normal basis he wouldn't hit the wide side of a barn the way he was shaking, but much to his surprise Seth didn't even attempt to fire at the man that had killed his junior officer, but that was because he was in no danger from him; Raylan realised at the last moment.

"I told you Hunt if you level that weapon at me; I will put you down!"

"Do your worst Marshall and I will do mine," Hunt replied and Raylan heard the rapport of a gun crack through the cemetery. The bullet missed him by a mile as Hunt leaped off his horse still walking straight towards him.

When they were stood ten feet apart Hunt screamed his frustration in to the night,

"Why can you never just die?" Raylan shrugged an uncaring shoulder his hand still resting on his gun. Hunt pulled the hammer back again levelling the gun at the centre of Raylan's chest and everything that had happened in the last two years in Kentucky came flashing back at him. The feel of Ava's skin under his hands and the smile on her face as she looked at him. The look of shock on Boyd's face when he found her bleeding on the couch, the white supremacists, the new church he set up to save the lost lambs, the mining company, the death threats from the Bennett's, Arlo, Art, Winona, Rachel and Tim. The drugs from Miami, the review board, Tommy Bucks the man that had started the whole thing off in the first place. The motel that he could never seem to leave. Everything hit him in jerky flashes of colour like an old school movie on a carousel. The feeling almost left him breathless, but he still managed to slip his gun out of his holster and take a shot at Hunt before he could manage to get his gun off. Hunt fell to the ground as if the puppet master had cut his strings. Raylan sighed and put his gun back next to his badge as the red of Hunt's blood blossomed through the dirty white shirt he was wearing.

"What should we do with the body Sheriff?" He asked and Seth said nothing as he had seen the panic flare in Raylan's eyes in the seconds before he shot Hunt. Seth had never witnessed a thing like it; it seemed to him in those short few seconds Raylan's life had flashed before his eyes and he steeled himself to carry on living. It was a miracle that things like that could happen. He was still staring at the older man when there was a cough off to the left of them and they looked at Hunt who was lying on his back with a grin on his face.

"Next time Marshall aim for the heart, it's what your taught is it not?" He asked before the sound of the revolver going off made all other sound dead and made the other gun shots that night sound childish and small and the burning heat that seared Raylan's skin made him scream. He had been shot before, but they had all been flesh wounds. This one however was a lucky shot that went through his chest making him sink to the ground as Deadwood faded in to nothingness and the darkness swallowed Raylan whole.

* * *

Raylan sat up in bed a scream ripping his vocal chords to shreds; he placed a hand over his heart where the bullet had entered the skin and felt that he was whole and hale. He looked over at his phone and noticed the time. He stood up and felt a little dizzy, maybe he had overdone it with the _Jim Beam_ last night as he saw the empty bottle on the floor by the bed, but that alone did not explain the dream he'd had. Raylan stumbled in to the shower praying that the hot water would clean away the despair that was racing over his skin at feeling his own death hanging over him.

The motels showers were about as good as a chocolate fire arm and by the time he had finished he wondered why he'd ever believed that the power shower could help. He switched on the little kettle that the motel supplied and made a thick syrup like coffee to coat his insides with caffeine and left the motel before he had the inevitable phone call from Art asking him all too politely to get his ass back in to the office so he could question him about his recent bout of stupidity.

"You look like shit!" Tim said as Raylan walked through the door and he tried to not laugh as he looked in to the sharp shooting blue eyes. Tim wasn't dead of course he wasn't, Tim was never in the firing line he was miles behind it with a sniper rifle. Tim stood up from his dead and cocked his head to the side as he looked at the rumpled state of Raylan, "You should sleep better," he said as he walked towards Raylan with a file.

"I will take that under advisement Tim." He said and cuffed his playfully in the shoulder surprising both of them, "Don't ever change," Tim grinned at him lopsidedly,

"Wasn't planning on it," he replied, "Oh Art wants to see you," he finished with a shrug, "You might want to plan what you are going to say to him about Boyd." Raylan laughed and from the end office Art could be heard moving around his desk as he made his way to the glass door to open it,

"Is that you Raylan?" he asked as if he were a father scolding his eldest child.

"Reporting for duty," Raylan said with a smirk as he took his hat off his head and placed it on his desk.

"Get your ass in here, the Marshall's service wants to know what in the hell you were doing out with Boyd Crowder last night and why you look like crap heated to one hundred degrees in the midday sun!" Raylan ran a hand through his hair and sighed, it was going to be any other day and for that he was grateful.

He'd think about Deadwood and what all that meant later, now he had a job to do. One that he was good at for the most part.


End file.
